


a psalm from the book of lies

by maharlika



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: 2012 Loki, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Thor, Cockwarming, Dark Thor, Feminization, Fertility god Thor, Fix-It, Grief, Guilt, Hair Kink, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), King Thor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Meld, Orgasm Denial, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Ragnarok, Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Throne Sex, Vaginal Sex, Violinist Loki, braiding, brief mentions of parent death, endgame thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharlika/pseuds/maharlika
Summary: Prompt fills from Twitter.1. 2012 Loki meets 2023 Thor for the first time.2. King Thor covets his much younger brother.3. Summer, and violinist!Loki.4. Hair braiding and fertility god Thor.5. Sequel to Chapter 2. Thor claims Loki publicly.6. Thor gets into an accident. Loki is his emergency contact.7. Loki tells his husband he loves him for the first time. They've been married for five years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from @InspirareEtCrea on Twitter: "2012 Loki and 2023 Thor’s first meeting...what do they say? Does Loki know what happened? Or does Thor have to tell him? Go anywhere and in any direction 💞"

Thor spent a month with the Guardians before he realized he wanted to go home. His decision was made when a signal blared to life on some sort of radar they rigged up on the Benatar, emitting a loud, wailing noise that woke them all up in the middle of the night. 

“Huge energy,” Quill said grimly. “It burst out of nowhere.”

“On Earth,” Rocket said, scratching his chin. 

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Thor was gone before anyone could say anything else, the Bifrost flashing through dim ship as he hefted Stormbreaker over his shoulder.

—

Thor landed far enough away from New Asgard that he wouldn’t wake anyone up with the Bifrost, and trekked the rest of the way to his old cottage. 

The door was creaked open when he got there.

An Infinity Stone, Groot had said. 

Before Rogers had disappeared, he’d told Thor what he’d seen in New York: Loki, alive, disappearing into thin air with the Tesseract in his hands. 

Was that what Thor hoped to find?

Loki, alive? 

He pushed the door open further. 

“Brother.”

—

This was not the Thor that Loki knew. He could see that immediately. It was not his body, nor his face, nor his hair, but his spirit. Worn down, weary, almost broken. Almost, but not quite. 

“Brother,” Loki said, watching Thor from beside the open window, a cool wind blowing in from the cliffs. 

Thor only stared, wide-eyed—only one eye. It made pain lance through Loki’s chest, and he turned away, hands coming together to worry at each other. 

“You’re not—“

They both started speaking the same sentence at the same time, something they hadn’t done since they were children.

“No,” Loki said, as Thor shook his head. 

“But you are my brother,” Thor said, and the barest of smiles came upon his face. 

Loki’s brow furrowed. The last he saw of Thor, he was intent on leading Loki to his punishment on Asgard. This Thor looked upon him with—fondness. Love, some part of Loki whispered. 

Something had gone terribly wrong. 

“Come, if you don’t believe me,” Thor said, tilting his head. He swept some hair from his face and offered Loki his forehead. 

Loki fidgeted, hesitating. Why would Thor be offering this? It was a violation of the highest order, to invade someone’s thoughts like that. Either a violation, or an intimacy that Loki could not bear. Loki had never wanted to do it to Thor. Thor had never offered. 

He was offering now.

Before he could stop himself, Loki strode forward, and, without looking at Thor, put his hand on Thor’s forehead.

—

The pull of memories went too fast for Thor to register, but the swell of emotion it engendered in him had him weeping as Loki stumbled backwards, reeling. 

“No,” Loki was choking out, “no, no, no.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispered, and Loki’s head jerked up to look at him with horror. 

“I couldn’t save you,” Thor said, tear-choked, watching Loki with blurry eyes. 

“It wasn’t—you weren’t—Thor, Gods—”

Thor closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t bear to speak. 

Something touched his cheek, hesitant. Thor opened his eyes to see Loki cupping his jaw with one hand, fingers shaking.

“Brother,” Loki said, and he was weeping as well. 

“Don’t go,” Thor begged. “Don’t go, don’t—”

“Where would I go?” Loki said, almost a laugh, and his tears spilled down his cheeks. 

“Six months,” Loki continued, wonder in his voice. “On that ugly, crowded ship.”

“Best six months out of my 15 centuries,” Thor sniffled. 

“I don’t deserve this,” Loki said, shaking his head. “I’m not—him.”

“You don’t have to be,” Thor said. “Only be Loki. Only Loki, nothing else.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt from @hoekiodinson on Twitter: "what if thor is already king or at least close to his coronation when they find loki"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for noncon and underage.

Thor grows up alone. Untempered, unrestrained, wild as a storm and with all its gusty arrogance.

His mother thinks he’s a lonely child, which is strange to him. He has no lack of friends, does not want for attention. He cannot be lonely.

His father thinks he is a selfish boy. This, Thor learns to be true. He covets things, he finds out. Never learned to share as a child, perhaps.

This poses no problem, because Thor is a prince and then a king, and he always gets what he wants.

Until what he wants is Loki.

—

The Jotnar attack Asgard on the day of Thor’s coronation, and a war breaks out not soon after. It is a bloody thing, war, and greedier than Thor could ever fathom.

It takes his mother, first, and then his father, and in exchange for it, Thor gets a crown.

And he gets a brother—finds a baby abandoned at a temple, its old stones as quiet as the falling snow, away from the din of battle. He hasn’t known Jotunheim to ever be quiet, and soon enough the newborn Jotun—tiny, shivering— shrieks and shatters the silence.

Thor scoops the baby up, wrapping it in his red cloak.

The baby changes from a dusky blue to a pale pink in his arms, and suckles on the dusty fabric of his cape until Thor gives it a finger instead, dipped in milk and sugar.

He takes Loki home.

His brother.

 _His_.

—

Loki grows up alone. He has few friends, for a prince, but it is all right, because he always has Thor.

Thor, who gives him all he could ever want: books, weapons, sweets, playthings. Birds, to start, then kittens. A stable of horses. A leashed dragon. Best of all, Thor gives Loki his attention, as much of it as he can spare.

And Loki never wants for anything, not when he has Thor’s attention, because attention and love are almost the same things, and Loki does not care to tell the difference.

—

Thor watches Loki grow up, watches him transform from a quiet child to a quiet adolescent, to someone on the cusp of adulthood. But not quite, and not yet.

Loki grows up strong, nourished by the Asgardian sun, and no one ever has to know about his heritage, about his strangeness. How foreign he is, the king’s little brother, everyone exclaims, how odd! They know nothing. No one does, except for Thor himself.

But Loki is devoted, as devoted as Thor, and Thor knows his brother loves him more dearly than he could ever love anyone. And Thor, whose heart rests in the tangled nest of greed, covets that love more than anything.

“You’re a lonely child,” Thor says, echoing his mother, long-dead now, as he and Loki take a quiet dinner in Thor’s chambers.

Loki wrinkles his nose as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Barely a child, now, sire,” he says, then tips wine into his mouth to prove it.

“But lonely?” Thor presses.

Loki shrugs. He picks up his knife and fork again, roasted fowl falling apart like butter under his easy cuts.

“Not as such,” Loki says. “I want for nothing, my king.”

“Truly?” Thor asks. He drinks his wine as well, and sees how Loki tracks the bob of his throat, how his hands stutter to see Thor raise his arm.

“Truly,” Loki says, and smiles sweetly.

Then, “It is only—but I shouldn’t say, my lord.”

“Tell me,” Thor says, and Loki must obey, for his brother is king.

“I miss you,” Loki pouts. “You are always so busy these days, brother.”

Thor sips his wine and nods, and says, “I’ll make it up to you.”

—

Thor is not used to being refused, and Loki is unused to refusing him. Thor tells his brother to sit upon his lap, and Loki, swaying with wine and blushing from the audacity of Thor’s command, obeys.

He’s a beautiful thing, pale and lithe, flushed red across his cheeks and down his neck.

His ass rests lightly upon Thor’s thick thigh.

“Am I not too heavy, sire?” Loki asks, eyes cast low.

“You are as light as a feather, brother,” Thor says. He sets a hand upon the side of Loki’s neck, a common gesture between the two of them, and then drags it Loki, Loki’s shirt falling open like a ripple of water as Thor uses his seidr. All the power in Asgard, and Thor uses it to debauch his little brother.

“Sire—“ Loki startles, then gasps, as Thor bends down to kiss the marble column of his proud neck.

“Sire,” Loki whimpers, when Thor’s lays his fingers upon Loki’s chest to pluck his nipples into rosy peaks.

“Sire,” Loki sobs, when Thor gently unlaces his breeches and presses the whole of his palm against Loki’s cock, then lower, to cup the leaking cunt he knows hides there.

“Sire, oh Gods, no, m-my Lord, Thor—“

“It’s all right, little one,” Thor murmurs, leaning up to bite Loki’s ear, his fingers nudging up against Loki’s swollen folds and stroking along his wet slit, making his beautiful little brother cry out and cling to him, shaking on his lap.

“Don’t, please,” Loki whimpers miserably, as Thor lines up his cock against that wet heat. “I—you’re going to—I’m not, please, I’m a boy, not a—“

“Not a girl?” Thor laughs. “Could have fooled me, little bird.” And he fucks into Loki in one smooth motion.

Loki cries out, once, and then falls quiet, panting wetly as Thor sets their rhythm, guiding Loki into riding him as tears track down his cheeks.

“D-don’t, please don’t come in me,” Loki sobs, and Thor hums, plundering his mouth as he considers.

“You’ll have to give me something else, then, little brother,” Thor says.

And thus the night finds Loki splayed on his back on the dining table, fingers hooking his ass open as Thor fucks him excruciatingly slow. His cunt leaks and his cock twitches as his king takes him, using him like a doll.

Thor takes Loki’s cock in his hand and makes him come first, back arching off the table and his cries echoing in Thor’s large, sparse chambers.

He comes inside Lok’s ass in thick, hot spurts, and keeps himself there for a few long moments while Loki sniffles and sobs.

Then Thor pulls out and takes the goblet of wine still standing on the table, taking a sip as he surveys his brother.

Now Loki will never want for anything, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me on twitter @sendaraven :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from @thunderingraven: "ripe summer fruit"

Thor waits for the music to stop playing from Loki’s room before he knocks.

His brother takes a long while to open the door, but Thor can be patient for this.

Thor sits with his back to the door, scrolling through his phone. When Loki jerks his door open, Thor lets himself fall backwards, spreading his arms and looking up at Loki from the floor.

“You wanna go out?” Thor asks.

“Go away,” Loki says. There's sweat on his brow, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I need to practice.”

“Lo, you’ve been on that thing for hours now,” Thor says, wheedling. “Come on, let’s get some sun, it’ll do you some good.”

Loki hesitates.

“Anyway,” Thor says, “the sooner you come with me, the sooner you’ll get rid of me.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Loki mumbles. His hands twitch. Thor knows his violin is laying on its stand in his room. A stand for a violin. Thor doesn’t even get a hello these days.

Still, that’s why he’s here now.

“Come onnnn,” Thor says, and reaches out a hand to curl around Loki’s ankle.

“Okay,” Loki sighs. His hands go up to flip his hair into a bun, and Thor tracks those pale, slender fingers moving deftly in dark hair.

He looks away.

—

It’s the height of summer, so Thor puts on a wide-brimmed summer hat, and gets one for Loki too, who takes it and puts it on without saying a word.

They go to the Farmer’s Market, a generous name for the collection of stalls and booths that prop themselves up in the plaza every weekend. It’s pleasantly busy, and they know the locals, so it’s nice to stroll around.

Loki gets them drinks, some fresh lemonade that they sip with paper straws that get soggy too fast. But he knows Thor cares about that sort of thing, about turtles eating plastic and fish dying in their oceans, so he doesn’t even complain.

Thor gets them some soft tacos filled with crisp, succulent fish, and a punnet of fresh cherries, relishing the way Loki’s eyes go wide at them.

“Oh my god,” Loki says, immediately plucking one off the top and popping it into his mouth. He plays with the green stem left behind, fiddling with it with long, elegant fingers that Thor is used to seeing curled around the bow and neck of a violin.

“Good?” Thor asks, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“So good,” Loki says, chewing. His smile turns mischievous and he spits the cherry pit at Thor, who groans and bats at Loki’s shoulder.

“You’re so gross,” Thor says, popping two cherries into his mouth at the same time. He relishes the way taut skin gives way to soft flesh, and very carefully doesn't think about pressing a kiss to a spot on the side of Loki's neck, where a loose curl rests.

“You love me,” Loki says, and blushes when Thor says, “Yeah.”

“Hey, look,” Loki says, putting the cherry stem into his mouth and taking on a look of concentration. Thor looks down at his drink while Loki’s tongue and teeth and lips all work together. Thor knows what he’s doing. He’s trying not to think too hard about it.

Eventually, Loki makes a triumphant noise and sticks out his tongue to display a cherry stem, knotted in on itself.

“Talented,” Thor says, dry. He clears his throat, takes another gulp of his drink.

They eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence. As they walk home, Thor holds the box between them, the two of them picking off cherries, staining their fingers red with juice.

They’re laughing as they walk home, talking about some childhood memory, but the flush on Loki’s face fades as they stop at their house. Someone’s delivering a package—Loki’s package. Loki’s letter from college, for music school.

The rest of the day is lost to that, to Loki’s excitement, but mostly to Loki’s utter relief, then to Loki’s shattering disappointment when their father barely acknowledges his achievement.

Loki shuts himself in his room and plays beautiful music for hours.

Thor leaves the box of cherries, still half-full, on the kitchen counter, forgotten.

—

Years later, Thor still remembers that day with regret. He should have said something, should have done better. It takes him another three years to pick up the courage—to visit Loki at college, to take him on vacation, to tell him he loves him.

He almost hates himself for it, for Loki’s state, for how he’s burned himself out, and for what? But he loves Loki too much. Knows Loki loves _him_ too much for hate to take any space in this relationship.

He lets it go, and life is sweeter for it. 

A week into living together, Thor wakes up to Loki’s side of the bed empty, but still warm. He goes outside to find his brother sitting at the kitchen table, ankles crossed, box of cherries at his elbow, a stem poking out of his mouth. He’s sketching something on some print paper, his newest creative venture. His violin is still safe in its case in one of the boxes they haven’t unpacked. He hasn’t touched it in months.

It’s summer again, and the sunlight from the window drapes itself on Loki’s bare shoulders like a mantle.

When Thor kisses him, he tastes like sunlight, like cherries, like the sweetness of summer and a love that’s been years in the making.

“What was that for?” Loki asks, twirling his pencil between those beautiful fingers. Thor takes those and kisses them too.

“Nothing,” Thor shrugs. “Everything. I don’t know. It’s nice to see you like this.”

“It’s nice to be like this,” Loki admits.

“To be with me?” Thor asks, teasing.

“To be with you,” Loki says, serious.

Thor has to kiss him again, and again.

They share the box of cherries until it’s empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt from @ElvenInquistor on Twitter: "hair braiding"
> 
> Also a belated birthday present for Tai ❤️

The first time Loki ever cast seidr, he was playing with his brother’s hair. 

Thor was on his belly on the floor, scribbling out a scene of great heroic bravery. It was an Einherjar facing off against a bilgesnipe, he would explain exasperatedly to anyone who asked, obviously, and Loki, only two centuries old, sat on his back petting his long, golden hair while he watched him draw. 

Thor winced as Loki tugged a little too hard, fisting tufts of Thor’s hair in his pudgy fists, but he made no move to push his brother away. Loki was only a child, after all, and Thor was strong and brave and could take a little bit of pain for his brother. 

Then something strange happened: Loki tugged on Thor’s hair, twisting them around his fingers, and the pictures on Thor’s parchment—shuddered. 

He blinked. 

He touched the edge of the paper with curious hands as Loki pulled two sections of Thor’s hair together, and Thor watched in awe as sparks of green lit up the margins of the page, and his Einherjar, off-kilter on its stilted legs, charged his nebulous bilgesnipe.

Thor knew what this was. It was seidr, like the kind his mama and papa used.

Excitedly, but gently, he rolled over to the side, depositing Loki on the floor before he could stuff Thor’s hair into his mouth.

“ _Soo_ ,” Loki mumbled, giggling as Thor picked him and the drawing up, running to their mother. 

The pictures didn’t move again, not even when Frigga pulled on Thor’s hair, but they all agreed that it must have been seidr, and that Loki was very gifted for his age. 

Thor kept the drawing in a closet, and thought about it often, though the pictures never came to life again. And then he grew older, and it, among many things he had shared with Loki, was soon forgotten. 

And then, when Ragnarok arrived, it was destroyed altogether. 

\--

Thor’s hair was bothering him, and he was bothering Loki. 

Almost six months aboard the Statesman, and they were almost at the end of their journey. Thor’s hair had grown out, brushing his broad shoulders now, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting with it. 

Loki was hopelessly distracted. He couldn’t sit through a council meeting without staring at the play of Thor’s rough fingers against soft, golden hair. The strands parted so easily around Thor’s fingers, twisted and curled and ran smoothly along his skin, and Loki really couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Especially when he knew that Thor knew exactly what he was doing.

“Cut it,” he said, bluntly, when they were in their shared chambers, a knife clenched in his hand. “Or I will do it for you.”

“I thought you liked my hair,” Thor said, nonchalant, and uncaring about Loki pulling a knife out while they were in bed, naked, still sweaty from three rounds of fucking.

“Actually,” Thor continued, before Loki could respond, “I know you like my hair. You said as much while I had your cock in my mouth. And you tugged so hard, brother.”

“It’s a distraction and I hate distractions, and—would you listen to me, you brute—Thor— _ah_ —” Loki broke off in a gasp as Thor leaned over, his hair falling in a wave across his shoulder as he rubbed his head up against Loki’s chest. 

“Yes, brother?” Thor asked, much too amused about this whole thing.

“At least let me braid it out of your face,” Loki grumbled, twisting his fingers and putting the knife away. “So you can stop distracting me in public.”

“Hmm,” Thor said, nodding his assent. “If it pleases you, beloved.”

He turned away to sit at the edge of the bed, both to allow Loki the freedom to blush at the endearment, and to kneel up and start arranging Thor’s hair into something less...distracting. 

It was Thor who noticed first. As Loki sectioned his hair into three parts, he glanced sideways, and realized that leaves had begun to wind themselves along the head of their bed. 

He blinked, leaning back, and watched.

Loki didn’t notice until the first plait was done, but it was very clear that something was happening when he realized he was kneeling on a small bed of daisies.

“Thor,” he said, calmly, “are you doing this?”

“Can you finish?” Thor asked, instead of answering. His eyes were closed, his head tilted up. 

Loki swallowed. He raised his hands to Thor’s hair once more, and slowly finished braiding his brother’s hair.

Oleanders, marigolds, and coneflowers sprung up between the spaces of Loki’s fingers. He carefully braided them into Thor’s hair as well, tucking them neatly in between the strands.

“It’s done,” he whispered, bending down to press a kiss to the back of Thor’s neck. 

“Thank you,” Thor sighed.

For a moment, the brothers sat in silence. Seidr hummed around them: Thor’s from the fresh growth, and Loki’s from the act of braiding.

“You know what Mama told me,” Loki said, fingering an orange petal that curled around Thor’s ear. “She said that hair braiding is one of the oldest forms of weaving.”

Thor hummed, nodding. He reached behind him to lace his hands with Loki. Dark green vines sprung to life out of the ether, wrapping their hands together.

“I looked into it,” Thor said. “Hand-holding as well. Primitive form of weaving.”

 _Hand-fasting_ , Loki thought but didn’t say. Instead, he said, “Does fucking count, do you suppose?” 

Thor laughed, turning around finally to kiss Loki.

“Why don’t we find out, brother?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to chapter 2, where dark!Thor claims his younger brother, Loki. This is nothing but filthy smut. 
> 
> This chapter contains noncon/dubcon.
> 
> With art from Elsa!! [HECK YEAH.](https://twitter.com/spreadtheashes/status/1215476702383443968?s=21)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Liz (Estivate), light of my life, for her birthday! Happy birthday, darling ❤️
> 
> And, of course, this is the first fic I post for 2020. Starting the year right?

“Your coming-of-age ceremony is in a month, is it not?”

Loki’s head jerked at the question, and he looked up from the plate of food he had been half-heartedly picking at. He flushed as he met Thor’s gaze, but his brother said nothing.

“Yes, sire,” Loki said, soft.

“I will see to the preparations,” Thor said, with finality. Then, he leaned back against his chair.

Loki had since learned what that movement meant. He abandoned his food to stand up, a shaking hand undoing his high collar as he went. Underneath, wrapped around his delicate neck, was a thin black collar. Easy enough to hide under his clothes, which was why his brother insisted that Loki wear it at all times.

He shed the rest of his clothes as he walked—modesty was not welcomed, not in Thor’s chambers, where every evening meal eventually led to this: Loki’s cries going unheeded as Thor sat him on his cock, fucking him into pliancy until Loki went still as a doll, nothing but hitched sobs to denote he was conscious.

It should have been a relief that Thor preferred to fuck Loki’s ass—his _tight, wet hole_ , Thor would grunt into his ear—but instead it made his cunt ache and grow wet, to his own horror. It was humiliation enough to suffer such violation at the hands of the one person Loki loved. It was worse that his body reacted, against his own wishes—that his nipples peaked and stiffened as Thor’s fingers pinched at them, that even as his ass was filled and stretched to the edge of pleasure and pain, his cock twitched and dripped helplessly.

And worse still was the way Thor would bring him to orgasm relentlessly, fondling the lips of Loki’s cunt and grinding his fat cock into Loki’s ass until Loki was spasming in his hold, coming even as he begged for Thor to stop.

Tonight, though, Thor stopped before Loki could tip over the edge, and Loki sat, shaking and split open on his cock, legs held apart by Thor’s rough hands, and bit his lip savagely to keep from begging. Thor pulled out, slow and horrible, and Loki could not help the whine that escaped his lips.

“Hush,” Thor murmured, setting Loki on his feet, where Loki struggled to stay standing.

Thor then took hold of his cock, covering Loki’s entire back with his chest, making Loki gasp and go up on his toes, and a burst of seidr tingled from Thor’s grasp. That was not a surprise in itself—Thor often used seidr to make Loki pliant—but it filled him with dread all the same.

Then Thor smacked his ass and sent him on his way.

—

Thor did not recall Loki to his chambers for the next few weeks. The days passed slowly and painfully as Loki realized what Thor’s seidr had done—it kept him from orgasm. The last few months with Thor had cultivated something in him—his body would grow hot and needy in the evenings, anticipating his brother’s touch, and when it failed to come, Loki was left wanting, crossing his legs miserably and weeping tears of frustration into his pillow.

The day of Loki’s coming-of-age ceremony started early. Servants were in his chambers before dawn, pulling him out of bed, bathing him, preparing him—for Thor. The thought filled him with equal parts dread and anticipation, and that now-familiar companion of terrible, helpless, aching arousal.

He left his chambers dressed only in the barest of clothes: delicate lines of gold and jewels, make-up brushed against his cheeks and, embarrassingly, his hard cock, perfume dabbed between his inner thighs. The finishing touch was a golden leash clipped onto his collar, left to hang down his chest.

Loki was no fool—he knew what Thor had planned for him. He also knew there was no way to escape it. So he walked, tinkling and shimmering, all the way to the throne room.

The doors opened. The crowd was small, to his great relief, just a select number of Thor’s courtiers and councillors. And any part of Loki that longed to fight against this withered away as soon as he saw his brother, sprawled on the throne, leaning just the way he did when he waited for Loki to approach him after their meal.

Loki’s mouth went dry as his heart sped up, and he felt his whole body throb in desperate arousal. His feet slipped on the golden floors, and he fought the urge to break into a run. He could feel slick dripping down his thighs from his cunt, but he kept his eyes up, locked on the figure of his brother.

Finally, Loki reached Thor, his whole body thrumming such that he could barely coordinate himself to sit upon Thor’s lap as his brother gestured for him to do.

The rest of it went quickly, more quickly than Loki had expected: he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, and Thor lifted him up, and then down, and his cock was nudging into Loki’s cunt, deeper and deeper until Loki was sobbing and whimpering. The only other sound in the throne room was the filthy wet noise of his cunt being fucked.

And then it was done. Or so Loki thought—he had assumed Thor would fuck him, claim him for everyone to see, and then Loki would be allowed, finally, to climax. But that was not the case. Thor kept Loki on his cock, running his hands along Loki’s shaking back and stroking his hair, for hours and hours.

At the start, he had rocked back and forth as much as he could, attempting to fuck himself if Thor would not, but Thor had easily put an end to that by delivering a smack to Loki’s ass, the sound of it ringing throughout the hall.

The morning passed with inexorable slowness. Loki set his teeth to the rough leather of Thor’s shoulder-piece to keep from crying out and disturbing the proceedings. His cunt was sore, leaking incessantly, and he almost felt bad for ruining Thor’s clothes.

Finally, when Loki was so dizzy with arousal he could barely think, Thor picked him up with one hand under his ass and bounced him upon his cock a few times—once, twice, and Loki broke out into fresh sobs, whining _pleasepleaseplease_ under his breath.

“Brother,” Thor said, a rumble of thunder. The first word he had spoken to Loki in a month. Loki could have wept. Instead, his body spasmed into orgasm as Thor released his seidr's hold on Loki’s body. Loki cried out as his cunt clamped around Thor’s cock, and he rode out his climax mindlessly, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body was effused with a pleasure so deep it was almost painful.

Thor said nothing else; there was no need. But Loki was struck, suddenly, with a fear that twisted its way down to his bones. He was Thor’s now—not only Thor’s brother, but his whore. And everyone knew it. Whatever name Loki would have made for himself was left to the wind, and if Thor tired of him—if Thor tired of him—

“ _Hush_ ,” Thor said, breaking through Loki’s thoughts. “You are mine,” he said.

“Yes, sire,” Loki choked out. He closed his eyes, fucked himself deeper onto his brother’s—his king’s—cock, and let his mind fall silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Catch me on twitter @sendaraven.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d cut his hair. There were stitches going down the side of his head, neat and precise.
> 
> Loki waited, and waited, until the doctor gestured towards him.
> 
> When Thor finally turned to face him, Loki realized that he had been standing in Thor’s blind spot. He’d lost an eye as well. Half of that blue sky, gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Raven, for the prompt: Thor and Loki are estranged brothers. Thor gets into an accident and loses his eye. Loki is his emergency contact.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, friend!!

The first thing Loki registered was that Thor was living in the same city. In his mind, his brother was far, far away. It was easier to think of it that way—that the inevitable distance had pulled them apart. Not that Thor had chosen to abandon him, leaving him alone to bear the burden of a sorrow too great for any one man to carry.

“Mr. Odinson?”

“Yes,” Loki said, hearing his voice as if it came from a great distance.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery, in time. For now, though, he needs—”

“I’m on my way,” Loki said, standing up. It was a miracle his legs held him. Carried him outside of his apartment, down the road where he could hail a cab to the hospital, not quite trusting himself to drive.

—

Thor had always been larger than life. The sun in his hair and the sky in his eyes had made him seem expansive. Loki had expected, as he rode in silence through the city, to be struck by the sight of Thor swaddled in hospital sheets. Had expected to reel back from the experience of being in a hospital for the first time in years. Had expected to feel a pang of sorrow at seeing him in a state so similar to their parents, those last, horrible days.

He had not expected Thor to be awake.

But he was. Thor was sitting up, his head turned away from Loki, talking to a doctor.

They’d cut his hair. There were stitches going down the side of his head, neat and precise.

Loki waited, and waited, until the doctor gestured towards him.

When Thor finally turned to face him, Loki realized that he had been standing in Thor’s blind spot. He’d lost an eye as well. Half of that blue sky, gone forever.

Before he could say anything, Thor smiled.

“Loki!” he said, in a voice so full of happiness that Loki was taken aback. Confused, he looked to the doctor for guidance.

She smiled indulgently. “He’s on some very strong pain meds.”

Ah.

“This is my brother,” Thor was saying to the doctor, sweet and excited. “He’s great. I missed him. Loki, the doctor says I’m gonna come home with you.”

“Yeah,” Loki said, swallowing everything else down. He focused on the scar running down the side of Thor’s head, the white patch where his eye should be. “Yeah, you’re coming home with me.”

—

He didn’t have an extra room, but the couch would have to do.

Thor didn’t seem to mind—he fell asleep as soon as Loki lowered him onto it, curling into himself, his feet hanging off the edge.

Loki went to get blankets. Poured a glass of water and put it on the coffee table. Sat at his usual spot at the dining table and tried to get some work done. Gave up, going back into the living room and sitting himself on the floor, back to the couch, with his computer in his lap.

That was how Thor found him, when he woke up, disoriented, and found the only light in the room to be shining in Loki’s face.

“You’re gonna go blind from that,” Thor said, his voice scratchy.

“I’m not the one who lost an eye,” Loki said, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen.

“You got me there,” Thor mumbled.

“More meds?” Loki asked.

“Phone?” Thor asked.

Loki put his computer away, then reached into the bag beside the table and rummaged around for Thor’s phone.

“Do you want me to—?” Loki asked.

Thor gave him the password, then asked Loki to call someone named Jane.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Loki said.

“She’ll pick up,” Thor said.

She did.

Loki stood up, went to the kitchen to pour himself some water, trying not to listen to the conversation Thor was having with someone Loki did not know.

—

They ate breakfast at the coffee table, seated crossed-legged on the floor, Thor leaning against the couch while Loki sat across from him.

“What do you do now?” Loki asked, moving a piece of pancake aimlessly into the puddles of syrup on his plate. He didn’t have an appetite for breakfast most days, and was eating now to distract himself from throwing himself at Thor and demanding explanations.

“I teach,” Thor said, which was surprising enough that Loki looked up.

“Teach what?” Loki asked.

“Physics,” Thor said. “College. Jane—I called her yesterday? She’s a colleague. Gonna take over my classes for a bit.”

“Oh,” Loki said. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Thor said. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

So careful, so polite. Loki wanted to rip something apart, but instead forced himself to shrug. “I code. Programs, websites. I get hired by _influencers_ a lot. It pays the bills.”

Thor nodded. “Yeah. I’m—glad. Things seem to be working out for you.”

This was excruciating. Loki stood up abruptly.

“Are you done?” Loki said, and began to clear the table without waiting for Thor’s response. Then he handed Thor his meds, sat down at the dining table, and worried himself with code until the sun went down.

—

“I’m not really much help to you,” Loki said, setting some take-out on the coffee table.

“You’ve been great,” Thor said, frowning from where he sat on the couch. The patch covering his empty eye socket was a clean white. He took care of it himself, in the bathroom—Loki was squeamish with blood.

Thor always made sure to clean up after himself. Like he wasn’t there at all, except for the indentations he left on Loki’s couch, the blanket he always folded up after himself.

“You could probably go home,” Loki said, busying himself with the food.

It had been a week. Short enough that they could separate again and forget this ever happened. Like some strange dream, disappearing in the morning light.

“Do you want me to?” Thor asked.

“You never bothered to stay before,” Loki said, sharp, worn thin by Thor’s quiet, unobtrusive presence. By the reminders he brought into Loki’s hollow home, of their father and mother: the missing eye, the blonde hair.

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispered.

“Don’t bother,” Loki said.

“No,” Thor said, “you deserve an explanation.”

Oh, fuck him, fuck him, _fuck him._

Loki was fuming, shaking with rage.

“I deserved an explanation five years ago,” he said, raising his voice. “When Mama and Papa died and you— _you fucking left me all alone, Thor! You left me!_ ”

“I know,” Thor said, his face crumpling, his one eye wet with tears. “I know, I’m so sorry.”

Loki heaved in breath after heaving breath, tears spilling out of him.

“What was it?” he said, his voice shaking. “What the fuck made you run away?”

Thor was weeping quietly now, a hand on his cheek where the tears streamed down his face.

“I was cleaning out the files in Papa’s study,” Thor choked out.

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You know I used to…I used to wish we weren’t brothers,” Thor whispered.

Loki’s heart dropped. No, he thought. No, no no.

“Awful of me, I know,” Thor said, his head bent. “Just fucking awful. But I couldn’t help it. I thought—I thought that it would make things—better. If not okay. If we weren’t brothers and I was—if I wanted—”

If he wanted _Loki_. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Loki felt untethered, like his soul was going to leave his body if he didn't anchor himself. He grasped blindly for Thor's hand, and almost sobbed when it was caught and held. 

“What did you find?” Loki whispered, his mind spinning. If he’d thought everything had fallen apart before, he realized now that Thor had done him a mercy.

“The truth,” Thor whispered, finally looking up. His one eye was such a bright, beautiful blue.

“And it broke me, Loki,” Thor said, in a whimper, curling in on himself. His hand tightened around Loki's, almost painful, but Loki could not make himself pull away.

He had to run. Had to stand up, had to move, had to fucking go—but he only sat there, staring in horror as he realized that the man sitting before him was not his brother.

Had never been his brother at all.

—

He didn’t know how long they sat there, shaking apart, only that Loki eventually stood up. His entire body shook, like he’d landed badly from a fall. But he was standing, at least.

Thor didn’t look up, still staring at their clasped hands, back bent as if carrying some great weight.

“Shove over,” Loki said, hoarse.

Thor blinked.

“It’s my couch too,” Loki said.

Thor moved.

“So,” Loki said. “We’re not brothers.”

“We are,” Thor said, sounding shocked. “We _are_ , Loki. No matter what.”

“But you said—”

“I’m in love with you,” Thor said, in a rush, and even though Loki had known, somehow, he’d always known—hearing it spoken still left him shocked.

“So why—” Loki choked out.

“Because I wanted us to be brothers, still,” Thor whispered. “Even though I—even if I felt that way, I didn’t want us to not be brothers.”

Loki swallowed.

“You must think I’m a monster,” Thor said, and he was crying again, sniffling quietly.

“If you’re a monster,” Loki said, squeezing Thor's hand tight, “then I am too.”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor sobbed.

“Come to bed with me,” Loki murmured, and felt Thor’s hand tremble.

—

Thor folded his shirt and shorts in a neat pile and placed them on the foot of Loki’s bed.

“When did you get so neat?” Loki said, standing by the doorway, his hands at the hem of his own shirt.

“It’s your space,” Thor said.

“You never cared before,” Loki said, recalling years of Thor leaving traces of himself in everything Loki owned. On Loki himself.

“It’s not...I don’t...I don’t have the right to it, anymore,” Thor said, his shoulders slumping. “I told myself that if I left, I was going to have to give up every part of you I’d ever laid claim to.”

“Well,” Loki said, slow. “Take it back.”

Loki slipped out of his shirt, then tucked his thumbs into his sweats and briefs and tugged them down in a smooth motion.

Thor gasped, a small, broken thing. 

“Thor,” Loki said, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “Forgiveness is earned, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Thor breathed. “I—let me. Please.”

“Get on the bed,” Loki said.

Thor went.

Loki closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Thor was laid out on his bed. The wide sea of his chest, the peaks and valleys of his elbows and knees, the wheat-gold fields that dusted his legs, his arms, his head, a topography that Loki had never before paid witness to. Not like this, bare to his eyes. His for the taking.

He bent over Thor, kneeling on the bed, not yet touching.

“Can I kiss you?” Thor asked.

“Please,” Loki whispered.

It was a hesitant thing, the first brush of their lips, but it made a shiver run down Loki’s spine all the same.

When he opened his eyes, he was caught off-guard by Thor’s expression, face furrowed as if in pain.

“What is it?” Loki asked, tracing a finger down Thor’s jaw.

“All I had to do was ask,” Thor choked.

Tears spilled down Loki’s cheeks again, and he leaned down to press their foreheads together.

“All you ever have to do is ask,” Loki said, and finally pressed himself all up along Thor’s body, skin against naked skin.

“It’s okay,” Thor said, when Loki began to slick his fingers. “I can take it.”

Loki frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Thor said, and there was a hint of a cocky grin on his face. “Trust me. I want to feel you.”

Loki inhaled, shaky, then nodded. He wrapped a hand around his cock and began to slick himself, shivering when he felt Thor’s hand wrap around his, Thor’s fingers pressing up between the gaps in Loki’s fingers.

Then Thor spread his legs side, his feet planted on the bed, and led the head of Loki’s cock into him.

They both sighed, shivery and soft, when Loki began to push in.

“You’re taking me so well,” Loki whispered, genuinely surprised, and Thor moaned, rocking down and gasping at the stretch.

Thor’s hands went above his head, clutching and clenching, until Loki reached up and laced their fingers together.

“No more running away,” Loki breathed, once he had Thor pinned down, his cock halfway in.

“No more,” Thor agreed, and bore down.

“Fuck,” Loki sobbed, “fuck, Thor, brother, oh—”

“Want to be good for you,” Thor whispered, rocking up, and down, circling his hips, clenching tight.

“You are,” Loki gasped, “you are, you are.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Thor said, “to, to earn your trust, your forgiveness—”

“You have it, you fool,” Loki said. “All of it, brother.”

He leaned down to kiss his brother on the mouth, and Thor opened up for him, body and heart both.

—

Afterwards, Thor’s eyepatch was blotched an ugly red.

“The doctor advised against strenuous activity,” Loki said, with a hint of a giggle in his voice.

“I’ll go clean it up,” Thor said, wriggling out of bed.

“Let me,” Loki said.

“It’s gross,” Thor said.

“I want to,” Loki said.

He spread his knees on either side of Thor’s legs, practically in his lap, as he eased the gauze off of Thor’s eye socket. Thor sat very still as Loki cleaned the wound and covered it up again, then kissed the clean white patch.

“Thank you,” Thor said, when Loki was done.

“I can’t believe you had to lose an eye before we saw each other again,” Loki said.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said.

“First rule of being with me,” Loki said, tilting Thor’s chin up with a finger. “No more apologies.”

“Being with you?” Thor asked, lips twitching.

“Yes,” Loki said.

“Are there any more rules?”

“Plenty,” Loki said, nodding.

The corner of Thor’s eye still crinkled the same way they always had.

—

They couldn’t sleep. Loki tucked himself under Thor’s chin and blinked against his skin. It felt almost impossible that he could feel Thor breathing, that he could smell his own soap on him. Felt impossible that five years had passed and being in Thor’s arms still felt like coming home.

“Can I make rules too?” Thor asked, after a moment.

Loki laughed softly. “Okay.”

“Rule number two. We’ll try our best not to let our past bog us down,” Thor said, though his voice wavered. “And I know—I know that seems unfair on my part since I—”

“Rule number three,” Loki said, “stop putting all the blame on yourself.”

He swallowed, then pushed past the fear and shame and said, “You left. But I let you go.”

Thor startled at that, drawing his arms tighter around Loki.

“Hey, rule number two,” Thor said.

“I’ll make a list in the morning,” Loki said, around a yawn.

—

Loki hadn’t realized how much he hated living alone until he started living with Thor.

He hadn’t noticed before how quiet his apartment was without anyone else, how easily he could fall into bad habits without no one to pull him out of them.

Case in point: the first time Thor had come home after teaching a night class and found Loki still plugged into his computer, where he had been sitting for twelve straight hours.

“Okay,” Thor said, heaving Loki up by the armpits while he hissed like a wet cat. “Time to get something inside you.”

“Is it cock?” Loki asked, ceasing his wriggling for a moment.

“It’s a sandwich,” Thor said, then acquiesced, “and maybe. If you’re good.”

There were also lazy cuddles and pancakes in the morning. Late night conversations, easy and fraught in turns. Lots of crying, the good kind and the bad kind. And always, always, they came back to each other.

Rule number four: no more running away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tells his husband he loves him for the first time. 
> 
> They have been married for five years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Megan 😘 ILU and congratulations again!!

Loki closed the door behind him with a sigh, glad that tonight’s bedtime story hadn’t gone off the rails as it tended to do. Magni had been sleepy and agreeable, and had fallen asleep not three pages into his new book about Midgardian fox spirits. Loki spirited the book away into one of his dimensional pockets, pondering fondly on those sly tricksters—shapeshifters like him. He hadn’t met a fox spirit in almost a century. 

Lost in his thoughts, he wandered down Idavollr’s golden halls, and found himself going up the spiral staircase that led to one of the palace’s high towers. It had been five years since he had first arrived on Asgard, but the sight never failed to arrest him: the sprawl of the great city, the houses glittering like a reflection of the night sky. To his left, the Bifrost stretched out over the void. The Observatory lay quiet, for now.

Loki summoned a cushion, then Magni’s book again, and settled himself in for the wait.

He did not have to wait long: as soon as he cracked the book open, he felt a keen pull of seidr, swirling and tugging towards the Bifrost. He stood up as a beam of light erupted from the Observatory, and sighed.

Thor always did have awful timing.

—

He was nervous. Dinner had been set earlier, out in the balcony instead of in one of the sitting rooms in their chambers. Still, Loki could not help but fidget with the immaculate placement of the dinner plates, the perfectly-straight alignment of knife and fork and spoon. 

A cool breeze picked up, blowing gently over the table, and Loki turned to welcome his husband as Thor landed with a _thud_ in front of him. 

“Do you remember when you used to crash into the table?” Loki asked, extending a hand towards Thor.

Thor laughed, taking Loki’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. The touch was familiar, but it had been months since Loki had felt it, and it sent a thrill running down his spine. 

“Did you miss me, husband?” Thor asked, rising to his feet. He left Mjolnir on the spot where he’d landed, and went over to pull Loki’s seat from the table. 

“Did I miss your boorish, oafish ways while you were adventuring in Midgard? Did I long for your loud voice and overly-large presence to ruin the peace and quiet of our chambers? Did I miss my brutish barbarian of a husband at all, all thesetranquil months?” Loki asked by way of a reply, smirking as he brought a glass of wine to his lips. 

“I can think of some things you might have missed,” Thor grinned. He winked, then, and Loki forced himself to roll his eyes.

Dinner passed pleasantly. Thor spoke of his work on Midgard, the continuing negotiations with their governments and world leaders, and Loki updated him on the state of affairs on Asgard.

“And Magni misses you,” Loki said, picking out the bones of his fish. He had started out with the knife and the fork, but through the course of the meal resorted to his hands, as was customary in Jotunheim. 

Thor had followed suit, picking mussels out of his soup and creaking them open with his fingers to steal the soft flesh inside. 

One of the things Loki had grown very fond of about his husband was the way he took Loki’s Jotun strangeness in stride. He did not think he would have been halfas accommodating if Thor had lived with him in Jotunheim instead.

“I miss him as well,” Thor said, his tone mournful. “I intend to spend another month here before making a trip back to Midgard. I miss my little apple seed.”

“Not so little anymore,” Loki sighed. “He seems to grow larger and larger each day, like the moon waxing through the month.”

“Of course,” Thor said with a grin. “He is our son, after all.”

“You should read him his stories tomorrow night,” Loki suggested. 

“I will. And oh, speaking of stories—” Thor wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, then concentrated and drew, out of thin air, a small sculpture.

“Your control over seidr grows stronger,” Loki said, beaming. 

“Only because of your strict guidance,” Thor laughed. “Every time I attempt to use a pocket dimension or direct my lightning, it is your voice I hear in my head.”

“How tragic for you,” Loki said dryly. 

“Not at all,” Thor replied, “I happen to be very fond of your voice.” And Loki reached out to take the sculpture instead of scrambling for a reply. 

It was a glass fox, cool to the touch and well-made, particularly in the ears and the tail, which curved with life-like appeal.

“I know it is not much, but one of the places I went to Midgard had shrines honoring fox spirits, just like the ones in your letters.”

“It’s wonderful, Thor,” Loki murmured. “Thank you. They taught me how to shapeshift, the fox spirits.”

“I didn’t know that,” Thor said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t mean much to my father, as you know,” Loki said, ignoring the pained look on Thor’s face. “Would have been thrown away into the snow as soon as I came of age and he had no more responsibility over me. But I learned to change my form.”

“And then you became valuable.”

“And then I became capable of bearing the young Prince of Asgard an heir, yes.”

“I’m grateful,” Thor said. “Not for the pain you’ve gone through in your life, never that, but for your gifts and your friends and your seidr, for bringing you to me.”

“Yes,” Loki said, caught off-guard. “I’m grateful too.”

Thor’s gaze turned mischievous.

“Did the fox spirits also teach you how to use your wiles on unsuspecting men?”

“You were never unsuspecting,” Loki said lightly. “You knew what I was the moment we met.”

Thor’s mouth twitched. “The marriage contract didn’t mention your penchant for knives.”

“It didn’t mention your earth-shaking snores either, but here we are,” Loki retorted.

It was an old, well-trodden exchange, but they both still dissolved into giggles from it.

As Thor returned to his meal, Loki tucked the fox into the pocket of his breeches, wanting to feel it pressing up against his skin. 

—

After dinner, they retired inside to Loki’s apartments and shared a bottle of wine between them, talking aimlessly of politics and trade, of Magni’s studies, of their upcoming trip to Jotunheim.

As the night drew to a close and Thor stood up to make his way to his own apartments, Loki rubbed a hand against the outline of the fox in his pocket and said, “Won’t you stay the night, husband?”

Thor turned to him, slow and seemingly off-kilter, and his eyes were so blue when he met Loki’s gaze. 

“If you would have me,” Thor said softly. 

“I would have you always,” Loki found himself saying. It was a ridiculous notion—he and Thor were wed, and had been for five years. Their union would last until their deaths, bringing forth peace and prosperity and heirs for both their realms. 

They would have each other for as long as they lived, in all the ways that were important and necessary.

But not, Loki had realized these past few months that Thor had been away, not in the way Loki _wanted._ The way he desired. 

Thor’s gaze darkened, and Loki’s heart picked up speed. 

They had fucked, of course, and not just for the purpose of bearing Magni. There was real attraction between the two of them, and they were both virile men with deep appetites. Sharing a bed was an easy way to sate them. Loki had had no other, not since he was wed. He had no idea if Thor had taken other partners, on his trips to Vanaheim, to Midgard. It was not something that had ever bothered Loki, because he had always accepted his marriage for what it was. 

He realized that it bothered him now. Very much so. 

Thor kissed him first, soft and gentle, the way he always did, the way he had on the day they were wed and every other time since, and Loki kissed harder, coaxing Thor’s tongue into his mouth, Thor’s teeth against his skin. 

“I missed this,” Loki groaned, the admission wrenched out of his grip by the warmth of Thor’s body. Thor was always so, so warm, so wonderfully hot and alive against Loki’s body. Inside Loki’s cunt. 

“Your brutish barbarian of a husband?” Thor teased, and Loki grabbed his face and kissed him, vicious and bruising.

Later on, when Thor had him on his back, his cock dragging in and out of Loki with inexorable slowness, Loki threw back his head and thought: _if I could have only this, only this, only this_ —

He came, gasping, before he could finish the thought.

—

“You should take me on your next trip to Midgard,” Loki said, murmured against Thor’s chest. Thor’s fingers were drowned in his hair, giving short, sharp tugs that made Loki melt and shiver. 

“We could bring Magni,” Thor said. “He would like it, I think. As would you. No servants, no courtiers, no guards. Just us. It would be a good trip.”

“Yes,” Loki said, then licked his lips. 

“You’ve gone very still,” Thor murmured, after a moment. His fingers loosened from Loki’s hair and stroked down his back instead.

“I’m thinking,” Loki said.

“What about?” Thor asked.

“It is silly,” Loki said. His heart was pounding miserably in his chest. It was not often that he felt unsure; he had not felt this unbearable mixture of hope and anxiety since he had first met Thor and realized he was not a barbarian as the tales had said. That he was kind, and strong, and wonderful. 

“You are never silly,” Thor said, his fingers quick and light on Loki’s skin. Each press and shift made Loki sink ever deeper into the dark pit of his own thoughts.

“You make me feel silly,” Loki muttered, annoyed with himself and with Thor’s unquestioning, unceasing affection. Five years of this, and Loki had only just realized—he was a fool. 

“Loki,” Thor said, sweeping back Loki’s hair from his face and leaning down to look at him. “What is it, dear one?”

It was the endearment that did it, that scooped Loki’s insides and turned them over, that had him scrambling out of bed, desperate for air. 

Thor sat up, hands raised, his forehead etched with worry. 

“Husband—”

“This is all your fault,” Loki bit out, pacing. He tried to weave his clothes onto his body but his seidr wasn’t cooperating. 

“Tell me what it is and I will fix it,” Thor said. He was pushing out of bed, but stayed sitting on the edge of it when Loki glared at him. 

Loki only shook his head, his throat feeling tight, and to his horror he had to bury his face in his hands and choke on a sob. 

“Loki,” Thor said with alarm, coming over despite Loki’s warning growl. 

“What is it?” Thor asked, and he sounded so concerned that Loki almost laughed.

Instead he sobbed, and shook his head again, and, very softly, said: “You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

There was silence. 

Loki wrenched himself from Thor’s grip and pulled his pants from the ground, shoving them on while Thor stood frozen across from him. The fox fell out, and Loki grabbed it from the floor, prepared to dash it against the wall—

Thor caught his wrist and tucked him close, his chest pressed tight against Loki’s heaving body. 

“It’s all right,” Thor whispered, “it’s all right.”

“It is awful,” Loki said, “it is unbearable—”

“To love your husband?” Thor asked.

“To love someone and not be loved in return,” Loki bit out, letting his bitterness coat his words.

“Well then,” Thor murmured, trailing kisses down Loki’s neck, “how lucky for you that I love you back.”

Loki whirled in Thor’s embrace, a dagger in his hand. He pressed it up against Thor’s throat and Thor let him.

“Do not _mock_ me,” Loki hissed. 

“You’re doing a very good job of it by yourself,” Thor said, exasperated.

Before Loki could reply, Thor wrapped an arm around his waist, drew him close, and kissed him. Hard and deep, so very unlike him. 

_Possessive_ , Loki thought, and shivered. 

“I love you,” Thor murmured, hot against Loki’s lips. “My beautiful, disagreeable, impossible husband.”

“As you should,” Loki gasped, going up on his toes as Thor squeezed his ass. 

“I do,” Thor said, cupping Loki’s jaw and meeting his gaze. “I always will.”

“You do realize that I simply must have another wedding because of this,” Loki said, his mouth pulled into a helpless smile even as he searched Thor’s gaze for any sign that Thor was not sincere. He could not find one. 

He loved his husband. His husband loved _him_. Oh, Norns.

“We will have all the weddings you require,” Thor promised. “My love.”

_Only this for the rest of my life_ , Loki thought hazily, leaning up to kiss and be kissed. To love and to be loved. 

For the rest of his life.

—

It was quiet, this early in the morning. Red and orange leaves crunched underfoot as Thor and Loki strolled through the forest. Magni, riding on Thor’s shoulders, reached out every so often to snag a branch or leaf. 

“This should be it,” Loki said, arriving at a stone shrine with a small statue of a fox on top of it.

Thor held up his hand, and an orange appeared on it. Loki did the same, and conjured another one for Magni. 

They made a little triangle with the oranges, then Loki stepped back, clapped his hands twice, and bowed deeply. 

As they walked back the way they came, the shadow of a fox settled over the fruit, curling up in contentment.


End file.
